Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол Мортимер

me down!’ she hissed at him as they crossed the empty hall. ‘I can walk perfectly well.’

      ‘And give you the opportunity to run straight back into the parlour? I think not.’

      Silenced, Dominique marvelled at his strength as he took the stairs two at a time. He held her firmly with his arm around her back and his hand clasped about her ribs and she was achingly aware of how close his fingers were to her breast. She was filled with outrage—at herself, for her wanton feelings, but even more so at Gideon for his cavalier behaviour. How dare he manhandle her in this way!

      As they reached the landing Chiswick appeared in the corridor. He stopped, his eyes almost popping out of his head.

      ‘Don’t just stand there gawping, man,’ barked Gideon. ‘Open the door for me!’

      Speechless with anger and shock, Dominique watched the servant throw open the door to the bedchamber. The golden light of the fire and several candles greeted them. Gideon sailed through with his burden and the butler reached in to close the door behind them. As it clicked shut there was the unmistakable sound of a throaty chuckle. It was all that was needed to fan the spark of her anger into full flame. She began to kick and struggle violently.

      ‘How dare you treat me like this!’

      ‘If you behave like a fishwife, then I will treat you as one.’

      ‘Fishwife! I merely asked you to leave me alone.’

      With an oath he set her on her feet, but kept hold of her wrists.

      ‘By Gad, woman, you are beyond reason! Do you not want to sleep in a comfortable bed tonight?’

      ‘No! I was quite happy to sleep downstairs.’

      ‘Well I was not! Damnation, madam, you are here now and here you will stay, whether you like it or not.’

      ‘Oh, and who is going to make me?’

      ‘I am, even if it means I have to stand guard outside your door all night.’

      ‘Much good that will do you, since there is a door from the dressing room on to the landing.’

      ‘Then I had best stay here where I can see you.’

      He released her, but there was a challenging look in his eye. Dominique knew that if she made a bolt for the dressing-room door he would catch her. She threw up her head.

      ‘I demand you let me go back downstairs.’

      ‘Ho, demand, do you? What about those wifely vows you took, to honour and obey?’

      ‘Worthless. Now will you let me go?’

      ‘Never.’

      He towered over her, sparking a tiny frisson of unease as she realised she was now in the very situation she had been trying to avoid. However, her temper was up and she was not daunted by his superior height and strength.

      ‘I refuse to sleep in that bed.’

      ‘That may be so, but you are not leaving this room again tonight.’

      She took a step back, glaring up at him as she folded her arms across her chest. As she did so she felt the solid line of the letter opener against her left forearm. She pulled it out with a triumphant flourish.

      ‘What the devil are you going to do with that?’

      ‘Stab you with it, if you don’t get out of my way.’

      * * *

      Gideon stared at her.

      ‘Good God, madam, anyone would think I intended to ravish you, instead of offering you the most comfortable bed in the house.’

      He wished he hadn’t used the word ravish, it brought all sorts of unhelpful connotations to his mind as she stood before him, breasts heaving and eyes flashing fire. Her hair had come loose in the struggle and now fell in a dusky cloud to her shoulders. The desire he had felt earlier stirred again, only stronger. He reminded himself he was a gentleman and should retire now, before it was too late. But she was still defying him, brandishing the letter opener like a sword, and that was a challenge he could not resist.

      ‘Step aside,’ she ordered him. ‘Let me return to the parlour.’

      ‘The devil I will.’

      ‘I—I will stab you if you get in my way.’

      He threw his arms wide.

      ‘Stab away.’

      His taunt brought a blaze of anger to her eyes again and with a shriek she launched herself at him. He grabbed her wrist. The letter opener was not that sharp and he doubted it would do much damage, but she seemed intent upon attacking him and he was damned if he was going to allow that. She was surprisingly strong. He twisted her wrist and she dropped the weapon, but immediately she sank her teeth into his hand.

      ‘Ouch! You little termagant!’ He wrestled her backwards on to the bed, pinning her wrists above her head. ‘Will you stop fighting like a wildcat?’

      She continued to struggle and he was obliged to use the weight of his body to hold her down and prevent her flailing legs from kicking him.

      ‘Let me go!’

      ‘Not if you are going to scratch my eyes out. Stop it!’ She ceased struggling and glared up at him, the gold braid on her bodice glinting with the rise and fall of her breast. ‘That’s better.’

      He, too, was breathing heavily, but he recognised it was not just exertion. The feel of her body beneath him was exciting him almost beyond reason. He smiled and earned for his troubles a smouldering look that sent the blood pounding faster through his body. He was lying between her legs, crushing her skirts against the bed, and for one searing moment he imagined what it would be like if her thighs were pressed against his, skin on skin rather than separated by numerous layers of cloth.

      ‘That reminds me.’ His voice seemed very distant and slightly unsteady. ‘I have not yet kissed the bride.’

      He told himself he was teasing her, punishing her just a little more. She watched him from those huge eyes. Large and dark, unfathomable pools, dragging him down. His gaze moved to her mouth.

      Better stop this now, before it gets out of hand.

      Too late. The pink tip of her tongue flickered nervously across her lips and he could not resist lowering his head to capture her mouth. It was a swift, hard kiss and she trembled beneath him. Immediately he drew back.

      * * *

      Dominique took a quick, shuddering breath. That was the last straw. Her blood was up, she had been aware of a sharp exultation when she had flown at him with the paperknife in her hand and her heart was still pounding from the ensuing tussle. He had overpowered her, of course, but she was not beaten. She told herself she would never give in, even with his body pressing down upon hers she felt herself stronger, not weaker, as sensations she could not explain took control of her body. She felt alive, buzzing with energy, ready to fight him again. Then he had closed the distance between them, his mouth finding her parted lips and taking possession. Her body responded with a shudder of desire that shocked and startled her. A longing, a need she could not control was unleashed—she wanted him as she had never wanted anyone, or anything, before.

      It was a shock to realise she would sell her soul to the devil for one night with Gideon Albury, and what did it matter? Her reputation was ruined, whatever happened, so why should she not have one glorious night to remember? He was easing himself away. In another moment he would be lost to her forever.

      * * *

      ‘I beg your pardon,’ he muttered, releasing her hands. ‘I should not—’

      Gideon broke off in surprise as she reached up and clutched at his neckcloth. She pulled him close and began to kiss him, a little inexpertly, but with such eagerness that desire lanced through him. He was lost. It was as if